


If Heaven Falls

by TammyRenH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Gen, Mild Language, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, show-level violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TammyRenH/pseuds/TammyRenH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Au where Dean and Sam did not grow up to be hunters and never encountered the supernatural until the day the angels fell.  Finding out that they were destined to be Michael and Lucifer's vessels puts the boys into a tailspin and things steadily go from bad to worse.  And then when Dean's at his lowest, a little crossroads demon introduces Dean to Cain....</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Heaven Falls

**If Heaven Falls**

 

They were ordinary men.

They were ordinary men leading ordinary lives.  Sure, Sam was super-smart, smart enough to get a full ride to Stanford.  Smart enough to graduate in the top of his class and to be accepted into Harvard Law School.  And smart enough to win the heart of Jessica, the beauty who blessed him so by agreeing to share her life with him.  And Dean had a special way with cars and women, charm that could go on for days, and the most extraordinary green eyes that God had ever created.  Still, if you asked Sam and Dean, they would be happy to tell you that they were ordinary men leading ordinary lives and they liked it that way just fine.

Sam and Dean are brothers.  They grew up with their parents – John and Mary Winchester – in Lawrence Kansas, leading about as apple-pie as a real life can be.  Sure John and Mary fought sometimes.  Sometimes the car repair business that John owned fell into a slump and money was tight.  And sometimes Dean found himself in hot water for one scrape or another.  But what the boys remember from those days was warmth, laughter and most prevalent, love. 

The boys themselves were polar opposites.  Dean was legendary – both for his good looks, his way with women, and his exploits.  He was suspended from high school on three separate occasions, once for spray painting the principal’s car a bright purple, and writing the words “pimp mobile” on the driver’s side door.  Not to mention several detentions for sassing teachers and for pda’s with whatever girl he was dating that week.  Everyone in the family thought that it would be a miracle if he graduated.  But along with his sass he had plenty of smarts and the whole family was there beaming with pride the day he got his diploma.  After that he was supposed to work in his dad’s auto shop and sometimes he did. But for the most part he ran around with his buddies, drank beer and dated and loved and left girl after broken-hearted girl.

Sam, on the other hand, was an introvert times ten.  He rarely socialized, had few friends, and spent his life at school, participating in various academic competitions, studying in the library or immersed in his computer.  Sam and Dean would go weeks without saying more than a word or two to each other with Dean out every night and Sam spending most of his time locked in his room with a “Do Not Disturb” sign on his door.

That all changed the night of February 15th, 1997.  John and Mary had gone out to a small birthday party held by her friend the mayor’s wife. It began to snow that night, and the roads became slick and dangerous.  On the way home from the party, John lost control of the truck he had been driving and went through a bridge rail, landing in the icy water below. Lab results later revealed alcohol wasn’t a factor, it was just bad luck.   And just like that Sam and Dean were orphans.

Dean grew up overnight.  He took over his father’s business, he took responsibility for Sam, and he made damn sure that Sam didn’t sink into depression.  He forced Sam out of his room and into the real world, starting small with insisting that they eat dinner together every night. At first Sam sulked through the dinners.  But bit by bit he began opening up to Dean about school, about girls, about the colleges he wanted to attend.  Dean was still a bit of a player where women were concerned.  But in all other areas he was very much the man of the house and Sam gradually began to respect and admire his older brother.

Best of all were the summers.  From the first summer after their parents died, to last summer when Sam was entering his senior year in Stanford, the boys took the Impala (which Dean to Sam’s great amusement called Baby) and hit the open road.  They never had a destination in mind, when they came across a fork in the road they would let the toss of a coin determine whether they turned right or left.  They often slept in the Impala, and spent every day for a month together.  They talked about nothing and everything.  They bonded in a way most brothers never get to.   With every trip they became closer, and every year this was the highlight of their summer.

Especially this year, because this year was no ordinary road trip.  This was Sam’s extended bachelor party, one last hurrah before his wedding to Jessica Moore, one last big bang before Sam and Dean became Sam and Jessica.   They went up to Montana to see Old Faithful, took a detour to California’s coast to bask in the summer sun and now were meandering their way back home.  They found themselves on a dirt road leading nowhere, when Dean parked the car and pulled out their trusty green cooler.  “I think this is as good of place as any to stop.”

Sam opened a beer and passed it to his big brother with a huge smile on his face.  “I’ll drink to that.”

For several minutes, they sipped their beers and watched the stars.  They drank in the silence, basking in the beauty of the night sky untarnished by city lights or factory smog.  It was a perfect ending to their trip, and although Sam was in a hurry to marry his girl and start his new life, right now there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“So this time next week, you’ll be Mr. Jessica Moore.”  Dean nudged his brother with his elbow.  “How does it feel to be so close to shackles and chains?”

“Pretty damn good,” Sam replied, finishing his beer and picking up another one.  “You should try it sometime.”

Dean shuddered.  “All that commitment, I just can’t.  Day after day after day after endless day, I get nightmares just thinking about it. “

“You just haven’t met the right girl,” Sam replied, “It’ll happen, you’ll see.  What’s the alternative?  Being alone for the rest of your life? ”

Dean shook his head.  “There’s a difference between being single and being alone and I’m – “Dean broke off as he looked across the field from where they parked Baby.

 “What the holy Hell?”

Sam’s eyes followed Dean’s as something streaked across the darkness and seemed to land in the small pond down the road.  Both Sam and Dean scooted off the car, spilling their now forgotten beers in the process.  Above them the streaks multiplied at such a rate that the night sky was almost as bright as day.  Some of the streaks seemed to vanish before they reached the earth.   And some seemed to change course mid-flight, going first one and then another direction.

 

Sam felt a tap on his shoulder, but there was nothing there.  He was so freaked out by what he was seeing, that at first he thought he was imagining things. Then he heard a voice filling his head and vibrating across his whole body.  “My name is Marie, I’m an angel and I need a vessel.  It’s a matter of great urgency.  Would you be willing to let me in?”

“In what?”  Sam asked aloud, confused.

“Huh?”  Dean tore his gaze away from the white streaks to his brother’s shaken face.  He grabbed Sam’s arm.  “Come on, I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t like it.  We need to get out of here.”

“Not so fast.   Marie – scram, these aren’t your vessels.” 

Standing in front of them was an older man, wearing a suit and a sly smile.  “Hello boys.  Let me introduce myself – “

Dean interrupted him, anxiety making his words sound angrier than he intended.  “Where the hell did you come from?”

A frown flashed across the older guy’s face before the bright, fake as a fifteen dollar bill, smile returned.  “As I was saying before the needless interruption, my name is Zachariah and I am an angel.”

Dean’s mind was short circuiting.  “A what?

“Angel, you know heaven, wings, the whole nine,” Zachariah repeated slowly, as if explaining things to a small child.  “This is of utmost importance, so I need you to keep up.”

The falling angels having distracted Dean, he now turned his attention back to Zachariah.  “How do you know my name?

That smile as slick as a snake again. “I know everything there is to know about you Dean Winchester.  Who you are, where you came from, who you could have been, what you are meant to be. “Zachariah took a few steps closer to Dean, who used every bit of self-control not to take a few steps back.  “Trust me when I tell you that this is the most important moment in your pathetic existence. This is the day that you – “

“Okay Zach.”  Dean said, cutting off what was appearing to be a speech that would go on forever. “I can call you Zach right?”

“Absolutely not.”  Zachariah replied with a glare of pure hostility.

“Yeah, okay, well Zach I need you to get your crazy ass away from me and my brother.”  Dean continued.  “I’m sure the people in white coats are looking for you right now.”

Zachariah looked to the side of Dean and gave that smile that Dean was already beginning to hate.  “What brother?”

Dean turned around.  Sam was gone.  His eyes searched everywhere for him, he yelled his name several times, but there was no response.   Dean faced Zachariah again, anger building up inside of him.  “What have you done with my brother?”

“Me?” Asked Zachariah as he flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket.  “Nothing.  But don’t worry little Sammy will be just fine.  He’s not our concern.  You are.  Now where were we?  Ah, yes, your destiny.  You see Dean -”

Panic and anger were warring inside of Dean.  “You can take that destiny crap and shove it up your ass.  The only thing I want to hear from you is the whereabouts of my brother.”  Dean searched his pocket until he came up with the pocketknife that he always carried with him.  It was small, but it was sharp and it could get the job done. Hoping that Zachariah wouldn’t notice his shaking hands, Dean took a few steps closer to him.  “Don’t force me to use this, because I will if I have to.  Take me to Sam, now.”

Zachariah threw his head back and laughed.  “That’s cute.”  He flicked his wrist and both the pocketknife and Zachariah’s smile were gone. “I need you to focus you little worm.  Michael will be here any minute and he has a question for you.  The most important question you will be ever asked. And since I know you are a bit slow, I’ll tell you what the only acceptable answer is, it’s yes.”

Everything about this was so fantastical, it was hard for Dean to take it in.  “This isn’t happening.”  Dean told Zachariah, wishing there was a way to make himself wake up.  “I’m hallucinating, or dreaming, or something.  But this, you, none of it is real.”

Zachariah snapped his fingers and in the same instant the road, Baby, the falling angels all were gone.  Dean found himself in a large room full of paintings of angels, busts of angels, ceramic angels, and celestial beings in every kind of art form.  And in the center of the room was a long table filled with Dean’s favorite things to eat and drink.   “This isn’t a dream, this is as real as it gets.  And all yours for the taking.  You can have everything you want, everything you’ve always wanted.  All you have to do is to say yes.”

Dean pushed the plate of hamburgers off the table where they landed with a loud satisfying smash.  “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why you came here and I sure as hell don’t know why you chose me.  But I do know one thing for damn certain, you are not getting jack squat from me until you take me to Sam.” 

For once Zachariah wasn’t smiling, but the slick salesman's smugness remained. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. You see little Sammy has a very important appointment of his own, you could say he’s making a deal with the devil.”

**********

Sam stood in the center of the room and tried to make sense of what he had just heard.  He needed Dean, he needed him with every fiber of his being.  But Dean wasn’t there and somehow he had to get through this all alone.  “I don’t understand,” He said to the man lying on the couch, looking up at Sam in considerable amusement.  “Why me?”

Lucifer answered.  “It’s destiny kid, there is no why in destiny, it just is.”

Sam took a few breaths in, but they didn’t help.  He was just a hair's breath away from a panic attack.  “But you said this only happens if I agree.   What happens if I don’t?”

 

Lucifer – the freaking real sprung-from-the-Bible just-raised-up-from-Hell Lucifer - shrugged.  “Then you don’t.  But I have a feeling you will.” Lucifer winked at him. 

Sam had never felt this overwhelmed, or this unsure of himself.  No longer certain his legs could hold him, he sank into the nearest chair.  “But you’re evil, the textbook definition of the word evil.  So, to be your vessel, does this mean that I’m – I mean, I must be.  I’ve always felt different sure, but not -”

This succeeded in wiping the smile from Lucifer’s face.  “Evil?  That’s just a word my brothers and sisters painted me with because they were too flipping scared to stand up for what they knew was right.  They damned me and I was ripped from my Father’s arms just because I wanted what was best for him, for all of us.  There’s nothing evil about that.  And there is nothing evil about me.   Don’t believe the propaganda Sam, you’re way too smart for that.”   Lucifer knelt in front of Sam, who was sitting straight as a board on the chair, Lucifer was almost but not quite touching him.  “Don’t fight this, please.  We will make an amazing team, the best team ever. I’ll even let you out from time to time, have a say in what we do and where we go.  C’mon Sam, if your goal is to make a difference in this world, wouldn’t this be your best chance?”

Sam looked at Lucifer, tears in his eyes but his words were strong – he almost spit them out.  “I will never say yes to you.”

At that moment there was movement in the room.  Dean was there, along with the guy that had shown up right before Lucifer had zapped him here. Although he and Dean were not exactly big on hugs, Sam was so relieved to see him that he didn’t even think about it.  He just went over and hugged his brother, they held on to each other as if they’ve both had been lost for days.  When he finally let go, Lucifer was gone.

“Okay you got what you asked for,” Zachariah told Dean, “As you can clearly see, your brother is fine.   So let’s stop with the touchy-feely crap and get back to business.  I just need your signature on the line that says ‘yes’.”

Sam looked at Dean, “He wants you to be his vessel?”

“Him?  No, not him. He’s some sort of low-level gofer as far as I can figure out.  It turns out its Michael that wants to take me out for a spin.”  Dean looked his brother over, wanting to assure himself that Sam was unhurt.  “Are you okay?  You look as freaked as that time we went to the circus.”

“Being told your Lucifer’s vessel will do that to you.”  Sam replied, trying hard to keep calm.

“Lucifer?”  Dean asked.  “That’s who he said it was but I thought he was just being pretentious.  It’s the Lucifer, the big bad himself?”

Zachariah gave an exaggerated gasp of exasperation.  “Yes.  The Lucifer.  The Michael.”  Zachariah looked up at the ceiling.  “Help?  Please?  Oops, forgot, nobodies home.”

“But why us?”  Dean asked Zachariah.  “We aren’t anybody special.  Sam here is a law school student.  I’m a grease monkey.  Why on earth would Lucifer and Michael want us for their vessels?”

 

“Good question.”  Zachariah replied, clearly giving up on the idea of heavenly intervention for the moment.  “The answer is – who the hell cares.  It’s an honor you idiot – well not to you.” Zachariah said, with just a quick glance in Sam’s direction.  “But for you Dean, I think we both can agree it’s a much bigger an honor than you deserve.  So just say yes like the good little orangutan you are and let’s get this show on the road.”

“That’s an awesome idea.”  Dean turned to Sam, who was looking way too pale, “Look I don’t know about you, but I have had about as much of this crap as I can stand.  Why don’t we find Baby, and get you home.  After all, we have a wedding to attend.”

Sam stood where he was, looking from Zachariah to Dean, “Do you think we can?  Do you think it could be that simple?  Go home, and forget this?  Forget them?”

Dean reached up and grabbed Sam by his shoulder.  “Look at me Sam, just at me.  They can’t make us do squat.  If they could, they would have already done it by now.  I’m not interested in being puppets in their stupid theatre.  What I am interested in is you – you and Jessica and that over the top wedding she has planned.  So tell this clown good riddance and let’s get you home.”

“But Dean,” Sam said his voice so soft that Dean had to strain to hear, “I am Lucifer’s vessel.  Lucifer’s.  What if at my very core I’m evil?  What if I marry Jessica and I turn into some kind of psychopath?”  Sam took a deep shuddering breath.  “Can I take that chance?  Can I risk hurting Jessica?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.”  Zachariah thundered   “Enough of the boohooing, you two are men – man up.  And no Dean, we can’t make you say yes.  But we can make you wish you had.”

"Is that what you think?”  Dean asked, turning back to Zachariah.  “Because that I’d like to see.”

Zachariah smiled, a slow happy smile that was all kinds of unnerving and then held out his hand.  Within seconds Dean felt like a thousand knives had been stuck in his stomach.  He fell to the floor and despite his best effort not to, began to moan.  Sam was immediately by his side.  “What is it Dean?  What’s wrong?”

Dean, unable to speak, grabbed at Sam’s arm.   There was blood coming out of Dean’s nose and he was having trouble breathing.

Sam held his brother as he looked up at Zachariah.   “You’ve got to stop this.  You’re killing him.  Just stop, and we’ll talk about this okay?”

“I have had it up to here with talking.”  Zachariah replied, slashing the air around his throat. “The only word I want to hear now is from your brain-dead brother and he knows what the word is.”

There was a whooshing sound and another angel appeared – in a crumpled suit and tie covered by a trench coat of all things.  He paid no attention to the boys, but stood face to face with Zachariah.  “You know what your instructions were.  Dean was not to be harmed.”

“Oh, whatever.  I was just having a bit of fun.”  Another small flick of his wrist and the pain left Dean.  Dean sat on the floor, breathing in and out way too fast and feeling drained.  Sam was still squatting beside him.  One moment Sam was fine. The next moment he felt excruciating pain all through his body, radiating from everywhere. Sam collapsed on the floor next to Dean, keeling over and spitting out blood.  “But nobody said anything about Satan’s boy toy.”

Dean turned to Zachariah, so angry he could feel himself beginning to shake.  “Stop it.   Stop hurting him.”

Zachariah held his hand to his ear.  “Say the magic word.”

Desperate, Dean turned his attention to the angel in the trench coat.  “You, whoever you are, do something.  This isn’t right.  You have to know that.”

The angel looked from Sam, whose blood loss had already reached terrifying levels back to Zachariah. “This isn’t the way.”

“Says who?  You Castiel?”  Zachariah laughed.  “This is exactly the way.  Either pretty boy here says yes and Michael gets his vessel or he doesn’t say yes and Lucifer loses his.  It’s a win/win situation.  I’m gonna get a big promotion over this.”

Castiel sighed and then gave a little nod and seemed to be preparing to leave.   Dean let go of  his brother’s arm and jumped to his feet, blocking Castiel’s path.  “I know you know this is wrong, I can see it in your eyes.  You are angels for heaven’s sake, angels are supposed to – I don’t know, be good or something.  You can’t just let him die, you can’t.”

Castiel looked from Dean to Sam and back again.  “I’m sorry.  If there was anything I could do – “

“There is!”  Dean interrupted.  “You can save him.  Okay, if you want me to think about this Michael thing I will.  But I promise you, if you let my brother die, hell can freeze over and I’ll still say no.”

“I hear a lot of babbling but I still haven’t heard what I want to hear.”  Zachariah intoned.  “Maybe if I turn up the heat a little bit.”

Sam was now vomiting copious amounts of blood.  Dean had never been so scared in his life.

He grabbed the collar of the angel’s trench coat.  “Please.”  He whispered.

Castiel took one more look at Sam and the pool of blood surrounding him. Castiel then grabbed a blade from underneath his trench coat and cut his hand.  Unsure of what the angel was doing, Dean took a few steps away from him and closer to Sam.  Castiel drew something on the wall with blood. Zachariah looked in his direction just as Castiel put his bloody hand over the symbol.  There was a flash of light and both angels vanished.

Dean’s sense of relief was short-lived, because Sam was still vomiting up blood.  Dean made his way outside, surprised to find himself in a sea of warehouses.  He realized he had no idea where he was, not even what city he was in.  But none of that was important, the only important thing was Sam.  Grabbing the first person he saw, Dean shouted.  “I need you to call an ambulance, my brother is dying in there.”

**********

Three hours later, the doctors informed Dean that there was nothing else they could do.  His brother, in all the ways that mattered, in all the ways that made Sam, Sam, was gone.  All that remained was the shell of the man he used to be and a machine breathing for him.  “We’ll give you some time to say goodbye.”

  1.   How the hell was he going to say goodbye to his little brother?  To the best friend he ever had?  To the boy whose future was so promising?  To the man who was just about to be married?   How did he fucking say goodbye?



Dean checked his messages on his phone again, he had none.  He had tried calling and messaging Jessica several times.  It wasn’t like Jessica to ignore a call, especially since she knew Sam was with Dean.   He had wanted to give Jessica a chance to say her own goodbyes before the doctors pulled the plug. Now it didn’t look like she would get that chance.  Why hadn’t she called him back?

“I can tell you why if you’d like.”   Dean almost dropped the phone as he stood up to face a man, small in stature and dressed in a tailor-made impeccable black suit.  He talked with a slight British accent.  “I don’t know if you realize it or not, but you spoke that last bit out loud.”

Dean looked from the strange man to the door to Sam’s hospital room, still shut tight. “How did you – “

The man in black rolled his eyes.  “Do we have to go through this?  Okay Cliff Notes version.  I’m Crowley, Crossroad Demon, on my way to becoming King of Hell if I have my way and I always have my way.  You are Dean Winchester, the sap destined to be Michael’s vessel.  And that’s your brother Sam, goner.  And speaking of goners, you can add sweet little Jessica to the list.  There now, are we all caught up?”

Dean blinked a few times.  The man – Crowley - was still there.  His mind raced and finally picked up on the last piece of news.  “Jessica’s dead?  How?”

“Well my future bestie, it might have escaped your attention but the angels fell today.  There was a guy, there was a spell, you wouldn’t understand it anyway so blah blah blah and down the angels go.  And up the angels went too, which is how sleeping beauty here got tagged.”

Dean’s head hurt.  “Lucifer?”

“See, and they said Sammy here had all the smarts.  Yes, when the arse of an angel worked the spell, he freed all the cherubs, including Lucifer.  Now you might be wondering who in their right mind would want Lucifer free – “

Dean’s anger was flaring up again.  “Okay I don’t have time for bedtime stories.   I need to say goodbye to my brother and you need to go back to wherever the Hell it is you came from.”

“Well that would be Hell but…okay so you don’t care about the Apocalypse. To tell you the truth neither do I.  But what I do care about is me – if Lucifer wins – “

“It will be all dandelions and gummy bears for you.”  Dean said turning his back on the man who wouldn’t go away.  First there were angels, real freaking angels and now there was this guy whatever the hell he was.  Dean could feel himself falling into a pit of darkness and all he wanted to do was to wallow in it.  If only everyone would leave him alone…

Sam was lying there, so still.  Sam, his brother.  His anchor.

“You’d think that wouldn’t you?  But the truth is, no.  Lucifer has a long list of things he doesn’t like, starting with humans and ending with demons.  If Lucifer wins its bye bye Crowley and that would be a tragedy of epic proportions, if I don’t say so myself.”

“Get the hell out of my brother’s room.”  Dean yelled as he took Sam’s hand and closed his eyes.  What was he supposed to do without Sam?

“Okay, I get it.  You don’t care about what happens to me.  Well, then how about the human race?  If this Apocalypse comes to past then most of the world’s population will be collateral damage.  I would think the end of the freaking world would be worth a minute or two of your time.”

Dean let go of Sam’s hand and turned back toward Crowley, tears of rage forming in his green eyes.  “If the world is to end, let it end.  What do I care?”

“Okay, I see I am going to have to get down to brass knuckles for you. If saving mankind isn’t your thing then what about revenge?  Against the angel that killed Sam, the angel that wouldn’t save him, all of those bloody bastards?  The angels are killing people right and left you know.  That’s what happened to Jessica.  The angels are desperate, they are looking for a vessel, anyone that they can get to let them in.  So one of them asked Jessica and sweet Jessica said yes, and – “Crowley did a big bomb motion with his hands.  “It’s happening all over.  And they just move right on to the next dupe, any port in the storm.  They have no standards, the angels.”  Crowley smoothed the collar of his well-made suit.  “Not like some of us.”  He took a look at the faded torn jeans Dean was wearing and the scuffed up boots.  “Well not like me.”

Dean had been looking at his still, motionless brother and at the machine that was breathing for him. He had for the most part tuned Crowley out.  But he latched on to the one word that he heard loud and clear, the word that spread warmth to his dying heart.  He turned back toward Crowley.  “Revenge?”

Crowley smiled, a slow self-satisfied smile.  “I know a man - “

There was a disturbance in the air and Castiel was back.  “Dean, don’t listen to this man.  He doesn’t have your best interest at heart.”

Dean turned his angry eyes to Castiel.  “Well I sure as hell am not listening to you.  You did this to Sam.  You and that son of a bitch killed him, he’s the only family I have left and now he’s gone.”

Castiel put a hand on Dean’s forearm, but Dean pushed it away with more force than the situation warranted.  “That man’s a demon Dean.  He’s evil and manipulative and he only serves himself.”

Crowley smiled at Castiel.  “Flatterer.”

“I’m sure he’s all those things. “  Dean replied.  “And I don’t care.  If you want to fix this then fix this.  Save Sam, give him back Jessica, and promise that Michael and Lucifer will leave us alone.  You guys can still have your cock fight, just leave us out of it.”

“I’d save him if I could.” Castiel sighed.  “But those are not my orders.  We all have our role to play Dean, and now it’s time for you to play yours.”

“You know, my mother used to love angels.  She collected them.  She used to tell me one was watching over me.” Dean gave a short bitter laugh.  “If she could just get a look at you.”

“She was right you know.” Castiel told him.  “And I am still.”

 

“Seriously?  Because - wow.  Well, bang up job there Cassie.  My parents are dead, my brother’s dead and my life isn’t worth living.   You and all your winged fairy friends can screw yourselves.   Go back to Zachariah and Michael.  Tell them the answer is no.  Tell them it will always be no.  And Castiel, find yourself another poor sap to watch over, because you aren’t wanted here.”  Dean turned his attention back to Crowley.  “Give me five minutes alone with my brother and then I’m yours.  Whatever sick plan you have, I’m in.”

Castiel started to say something else, but Dean one again pushed him away.   Castiel took one more long look at Sam, one longing look at Dean, and then with a whoosh he was gone.

Five minutes later, as promised, Dean met Crowley in the hospital corridor, “What do you need me to do?”

He had no sooner met up with Crowley, then there was the familiar whooshing sound and a cool hand touched Sam’s forehead, still warm from Dean’s kiss goodbye.   As the man leaned over Sam’s still body, he was humming “This Little Light of Mine.”

**********

After a long drive through chaotic highways and dusty back roads, they finally arrived at the little farmhouse.  Crowley had done all the driving (it was a testament to how lost Dean was that he had allowed it) and all the talking during the tedious trip. Dean had spent most of his time staring out the window and willing himself to feel nothing.  He had left before they had turned off the machines keeping his brother alive, at the time it had seemed okay because he had said his goodbyes and Sam was already gone anyway.  But half way to this nowhere place Dean had been hit by a sense of profound guilt, his brother was dying alone, surrounded by strangers.  And instead of being with him he was with this – this thing and he had no clue why he had agreed to any of this.   .

“So this guy is going to give me – “Dean was still having a very hard time focusing.  In a hospital bed his whole world lay dying, probably dead by now.  And here he was with a tiny oaf of a man who swore he was the head of the crossroad demons – which was not the name of a punk rock band.  His head hurt, his heart hurt, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and never wake up.

Crowley, of course, was not going to let that happen.  “We’ve been through this.  You are going to have to wake up princess and pay attention if you are going to make it through the next hour intact.   All we have to do is convince Cain to hand the mark over to you. Piece of cake.  Probably."

"Why don't you just kill the angels yourself if you want them dead so damn much?”  Asked Dean, sounding as surly as he felt.

“If I could kill them, do you think there'd be any chance I’d be dealing with the likes of you?  It takes special magic to kill an angel, if you don’t happen to have an angel’s blade handy, which we don’t.”   Crowley informed him as he reached inside Baby’s trunk and pulled out a long, slim package. “Look, this is how it's going to work. We’re going in there and I’ll handle Cain. I have mad persuasion skills. He gives you the mark, you go on an angel killing spree, and everybody wins, especially me.”

“If the mark of Cain is such hot stuff, why don’t you just get it?”  Dean asked, as they approached the old farmhouse where Cain was hiding out.

Crowley seemed hesitant for a second, and when he spoke it was in a hurried whisper.  “”Cause the mark won’t work on me, but it will on you,” Crowley said as they headed to the porch.  “Oh yeah, watch out for the bees.”

A few minutes later, they were in the farmhouse.  Cain and Crowley had their heads together and were whispering fast and furious.  They were both as tense as virgins on a first date, Dean sensed they were not exactly friends.  Crowley and Cain took the discussion into another room and there was a sound like glass breaking.

Alone in the library, Dean made good use of the bar.  He downed a shot of whiskey immediately, and then lined out three more.  All he could see was Sam lying in that hospital room, Sam dying surrounded by strangers. He wondered how many shots it would take to drown the endless images of his brother that floated in his brain. 

Dean didn’t realize he was crying until he heard a soft cough behind him.

Right behind Crowley, Cain entered the room, in full rage mode, and spoke to Dean for the first time since the two had arrived.  “You realize this has consequences – “

“Just do it already.”  Dean replied.

It started out as a burning sensation, as if every fiber in his arm were aflame.  He almost fell from the agony of it, but Cain’s grip kept him on his feet.  Then the burning sensation rose to his forearm and he began to see something being etched, as if invisble needles were being thrust into his arm over and over again.  It took only seconds, but for Dean it felt much longer.  And then Cain let him go and Dean did fall to his knees, gasping for breath and feeling so many emotions at once that he could not pinpoint any of them. 

Well maybe one of them. Rising about the confusion and the pain, one primary emotion surfaced. One that Dean had experienced little of in his life, but now he embraced it, needed it.  Rage.

Crowley and Cain were talking above his head.  The words were loud, and angry.   They might as well been speaking gibberish, because nothing was getting through to Dean, all he could hear was red.  He was lost in the feeling of the rage, of anger touching every vein in his body, seeping into his brain, succeeding where the alcohol did not by wiping away all thoughts of Sam.  There was no more grief of a dead brother, nor any confusion about a world gone awry.  There was no more fear, no more sadness. Rage was all there was, the whole world turned a glorious shade of deep dark red. 

Hands jerked him back up, Crowley was now facing him.  It took a few sentences, but finally the words seeped in, over the rage and into Dean’s over-tired and over-stimulated brain.  “We need to get moving, things to do people to kill.”  Crowley said to him. “Move it, you moron.  Before Lucifer finds another vessel and – “

Crowley grabbed his arm and at the same moment, in his other hand, Cain placed something cold and hard.  Dean didn’t think, Dean just felt – and struck. Once, twice, there was a startled cry from someone, and three four six times.  And then someone was forcing his hand down, and the steel slipped from his shaky fingers.  At his feet, Crowley lay, dark black blood seeping into the floor.

Dazed, Dean looked up to see Cain wrapping up the blade in a towel.  “Thanks for that,” Cain told Dean as he placed the wrapped blade into a box.  “I had made a vow never to kill again, or I would have taken care of the bastard myself.”

“I – “   Dean looked from Cain to Crowley on the floor, “I – killed him?”

“Yeah – about that. “Cain said to Dean.  “You should have read the fine print before you said yes.  The mark wants you to kill, it needs you to kill.  If you are away from the blade, and you are strong enough – which I have my doubts about you- maybe you can fight it.  But if the blade is in your hands – “Cain shrugged.  “Crowley brought the blade here, he got what he deserved.  You were dumb enough to say yes to something you knew nothing about, so you got what you deserved. Me – sadly – since I’m doomed to live forever, I’ll never get what I deserve.  So, take your blade,” Cain never touched him, but Dean felt himself pushed toward the door, “And get the hell out of my house.”

Dean only made it about a mile down the road before the deep breaths he had been trying to take turned into hyperventilating causing Dean to swerve off the road.  Luckily the ditch Baby landed in was a shallow one, but Dean hit his head pretty hard.  Dean barely made it out of the car before he started vomiting, and kept vomiting until his stomach was as empty as he felt inside. Dean sat down beside his beloved car, his hands were holding his head, but his head still felt like it was spinning.

He killed someone.  Well not so much as someone as something.  But still, he killed.  He had never killed anything before.  His Dad had tried to take him and Sammy hunting, years ago, but gave up in disgust because neither one of the boys would take a shot at anything.  Sam because of his gentle soul, Dean because it just felt wrong.   And now he had killed a man.   Taken a knife – blade – whatever the hell hat thing was and sunk it into Crowley’s body again and again and –

That wasn’t even the worse part.  The worst part was that right now all he wanted to do was take the blade from his trunk and kill everyone in his path. Angels, demons, people.  Everyone that got to live while Sam lay in a morgue somewhere, rotting away. 

Funny that Sam was the one chosen to be Lucifer’s vessel, because right now Dean was pretty damn certain he was the evil one.

So what to do next.  He had nothing and no one.  Cain told him he could fight the mark, but with what?  There was not enough spark in Dean to fight it, especially when every fiber in his being was pushing him to give in.

So give in he would.   He would do what he set out to do.  The mark demanded blood and he would oblige. The angels had it coming, they had fallen here with the purpose to start a war.  Well if it was a war they wanted, a war they would have.

Feeling somehow calmer now that he had a plan, Dean stood up.  He was wasting time feeling sorry for himself, every moment he delayed people were dying.  The radio had been full of news about angel on angel violence in Cleveland, Detroit and Memphis.  And it wasn’t just angels that the angels were killing, they mowed down anyone in their path. In addition, a lot of the unlucky people who said yes to the angels were exploding just like Jessica who had loved his brother so.  They had plans to take over the earth and he wasn’t going to sit by and just let them do it.  He knew this wasn’t a battle he could win.  He knew it wasn’t a battle he could survive.  But if this was his destiny, he was going to take as many of those sons of bitches with him as he could.

Dean went to Baby’s trunk and pulled out the box.  Using extreme care, he opened the box and unwrapped the blade.  As soon as it was in his hands, that overwhelming feeling of rage hit him, but this time he was ready for it.  He felt anger yes, but he also felt power.  It was time to show those dicks that they weren't the only game in town.

But how to find an angel?   The answer of course, was to let the angel find him.

Dean stood in the center of the road and yelled out into the nothingness. “Zachariah, hey buddy, I feel a ‘yes’ coming on.”

Before the sentence was out, Zachariah was there.  But almost immediately his smile turned wary.  “There’s something different about you….”

“You could say that. “  Dean took the blade from where he was hiding it behind his back and held it up over his head. “I think it’s time for you and the rest of you slimy bastards to call it a day and scurry on back home.”

“Or what?” Zachariah asked, with his most imperial tone.  “You’ll cut me with your little pocketknife?  You don’t have the balls for that boy, you are miles outside your league.”

“You keep on believing that.”  Dean took a few steps closer to Zachariah, he could feel the mark beginning to come alive again.  But yet - he had killed Crowley by instinct, this felt much more like murder.  The rage was building as the mark demanded it's due.  But there was also a voice inside of him, a voice that sounded an awful lot like Sam’s, and the voice was telling him that this wasn’t the way. That there was no justification for what he was doing.

Zachariah saw his hesitation and smiled.  “That’s what I thought.  So this is what is going to happen.  Obviously, you can no longer be Michael's vessel, you blew your chance when you got that hideous tattoo.  So I will be going. And you can go back to your stupid pathetic excuse of a – “

He talked just a little too long.  Somewhere in the middle of Zachariah's impervious speech, the blade's need for blood overpowered the voice in Dean's head.  Zachariah was still in mid-sentence when the blade struck him through the heart.

Dean waited for the guilt to come, but the wait was in vain. Instead there was a kind of muted joy that the smarmy bastard was dead and a strange kind of relief that came from being past saving.  He had killed twice now, the second time with deliberation and he might as well admit it, with enjoyment.  The Dean of a day ago was gone, as dead as his brother was. There was no going back now, there was nothing ahead of him but darkness.  One down, what – maybe a few thousand to go?   Well he’d better get started then.

**********

Finding angels to kill was easy, falling further into the deep pit of darkness was even easier. He forgot about Sam.  He forgot about everything in his past life.  He even forgot about Baby, who he had left abandoned in the parking lot of an one-star no-tell.  The blade wanted blood, needed blood, didn’t care if the blood was demon or angel (or Dean suspected human but he hadn’t sunk that low – not yet anyway). And Dean wanted what the blade wanted.  All he could think about was feeding the blade, giving in to the rage, giving in to all that dark.  He was all too aware that with every kill, he lost another piece of himself.  He just couldn't bring himself to care.

It didn’t take long, maybe two or three days of stabbing everything in his path until Michael, the great angel himself, showed up.   If Dean had still been capable of feeling joy, he would have felt it then.  This was his grand prize, the golden cup of his short bloody career.  It was time to kill himself an arch-angel. 

“You know, every time you use that thing, you kill the host too.”   The voice was mild, matter-of-fact. The vessel Michael had chosen was a man around his age, with dark hair and brown eyes and there was something just so familiar about him.  He was smiling, not a smarmy smile like Zachariah or a sardonic one like Crowley, a genuine ‘gee it’s good to see you’ smile.  Dean felt unnerved, unsettled.  “You might want to think about that before you go using that blade again.”

There was something familiar about the angel’s eyes.  About the way he stood, about the tone of his voice.  And then it hit him, hard.  “Dad?”  Dean asked, hating the tremor in his voice.

The angel smiled. “Not quite.  But yeah, he’s my vessel.”  The angel indicated his body.  “I had to do some – well I guess you could call it finagling = since you were so unwilling to be my vessel and you and your brother are the end of your bloodline.   So I went back in time, told John what was happening here and he said yes.  I think he thought there was a way he could save you, who knows maybe there is.  That is, if there is enough of you left in there to be saved.”

Dean held the blade up, like it was a gun, aiming it at Michael.  “Get out of him.”

Michael chuckled.  “Not your call son.  I asked, Daddy said yes, so here we are.  I just came by so he could see you, he’s mighty disappointed in you in case you were wondering.  Appalled even. By the way, your little tour of duty isn’t accomplishing anything.  Lucifer and I are going to have our battle. And there is nothing that you or that little stick pin you’ve been carrying around can do about it.  If I was you, I would find somewhere dark and cozy and hold on tight.  It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

“So you and Lucifer have your cock fight and people die, innocent people.  Lots of them.  And you are okay with that?”  

Michael shrugged.  “So it is written, and so it shall pass.  The right side will win, if that will give you any comfort.”

Dean could feel the mark of Cain burning against his skin, the anger growing stronger and along with that hunger.  “Or maybe I’ll just kill the lot of you, how’s that for a happy ending?”

Dean didn’t hear him coming, but the next moment Castiel was by his side.  “Dean – it doesn’t have to be like this. The mark – it’s unfortunate.  But you can learn to fight it, I can help you with that.”

Dean barely bothered to look at him.  “It’s way too late for that.”

Castiel turned Dean around, away from Michael.  Dean was beyond frustrated, he tried to wrestle away from Castiel, but Castiel's grip was too strong.  “It’s not too late.  It’s never too late.  I can help you.  You have to let me help you.”

Dean looked into Castiel’s blue eyes which radiated goodness and warmth.  He found himself begin to waver.  “I’ve done things.”

“I know, but it’s okay.  We can make this right.  You can be forgiven Dean.  You can still be an agent for good.”  Castiel put his hand over Dean's hand that held the blade.  “You can still be the man Sam believed you to be.”

Castiel touched Dean’s forehead and suddenly Dean was drowning in memories of Sam.  Visions of Sam played in Dean’s mind like one of those old home-made movies.  Sam as a toddler, following after him, walking as fast as his chubby legs could go as he tried to catch up to his older brother.  Sam playing soccer, beaming ear to ear as he held that stupid trophy in his hands.  The year he and Sam had set off all those fireworks, it had been worth being grounded for a month.  Watching Sam bent over the computer, in his own little world, isolated from everyone around him. Sam at Mom and Dad’s funeral, so solemn and so alone. Sam teasing Dean about his latest girlfriend as they grilled hamburgers together out in the park. That was the moment Dean realized that the two strangers had finally became brothers.  Faster and faster the flashes came.  The yearly trips with Sam, sitting on Baby drinking a beer, how happy Sam was when he announced his and Jessica’s engagement.  Sam smiling, his eyes twinkling, his too-long hair blowing all over the place as they watched the Pirates play.  Sam standing beside him watching the angels fall.  And then Sam still and pale in that hospital room.

It was the worst kind of pain, far worse than anything any other angel had done to him. Dean jerked Castiel’s hand away.  “If you cared so much about Sam, you would have saved him.”

“I wanted to,” Castiel said with sincerity, “But there are rules, an order about things –“

“The hell with your rules.”  Dean realized he had chosen a side. It might be the wrong one, but it was his choice to make.   “You’ve got five seconds to fly your feathery ass out of here or – “

Castiel started to say something else, but stopped himself.  He looked down at his feet and then, without another word, he was gone. Dean turned his attention back to Michael.  “The same goes for you.”

Michael smiled in response.  “Or you’ll kill me?  Well, you can try, if you feel strong enough.”

Dean flung himself at Michael, his blade nicking a bit of Michael’s skin.   There was a blue flash and a grunt of pain from Michael.  Dean was pleased to see Michael's smile had disappeared.

“You’re that far gone that you’d be willing to kill your own father?”  Michael asked.

“My father is already dead.  My brother is dead.  Everyone I have ever cared about is dead.  And now all I want is for everyone I don’t care about to be dead as well.”  Dean lunged at Michael again, and this time caught his shoulder.  Again the blue flash and the grunt of pain, but Michael was still not fighting back.  This only caused Dean’s fury to grow, and, as a small part of his brain realized, his recklessness to increase.

“I could remove that mark for you.”  Michael told Dean. “As an archangel, I am one of the very few that have that power.  You know that mark is turning you into something you are not.  I can hear your father screaming inside of me, screaming for you to stop. This is your only chance, the only time I will make this offer.  But you have to put down your blade and give me your allegiance."

Let the mark go?  The mark was a part of him now.  It was the source of his strength, the base of his power.  There was no going back, and anyway Dean didn’t want to.  He didn’t care if it ended bloody, in fact he hoped it would.  The only answer he gave Michael was to attack again, this time with a guttural scream.  He missed Michael completely this time.

"If I kill you, and I will kill you if you don’t turn away now, you will turn into a demon.  Do you know what that means?”

“Crowley,” Dean answered in a way of a response.

“Crowley.  And worse.  Evil, pure evil.  Tell me, is that what your precious Sammy would have wanted for you?”

Beyond hearing, beyond caring, Dean charged once more.  He never saw the blade in Michael’s hand.  He never saw Michael thrust it toward him.  But he felt it as it pierced his skin, he felt it as it went through his stomach.  He felt his blood oozing out.  And he knew then that he had lost the battle.

What felt like seconds later, Dean was somewhere else.  Somewhere bright, where the sun was shining and roses bloomed recklessly everywhere.  He felt different, strange. He felt lighter, as if a tremendous burden had been lifted from him. He looked at his arm, the mark was still there.   Looking down at his feet, he saw the blade.  He picked it up and began walking, struggling to orientate himself.  As much as he could figure out, he was in some kind of garden.

He kept going until he found a gate.  Two people were standing by it, like they were guarding it, but when Dean looked at them they just stepped aside.  He opened the gate and almost rushed through it.  There was a feeling of urgency, as if he had an appointment with someone. 

And then, facing him, there was Sam.  Walking, upright, breathing – Sam.

Dean stopped short and looked Sam up and down.  For a dead man he looked quite good.  “Hiya Sammy.”

“We’ve been expecting you.  The first thing you should probably know is that I’m not Sam.”  The man in the white suit smiled at Dean.  “Not right now anyway, although I do let him come out and play now and again.”

Dean knew he should feel excited that Sam was alive, or dismayed that his brother was trapped in his body, or anything. But all he felt was a strange kind of detachment and a muted kind of curiosity.  “Lucifer?”

“And on your first try.   And I’ve got a spoiler alert just for you.  Sam picked the winning side, I was just taking a look around at my new kingdom”

“The last time I saw Sam he was dead.  He couldn’t have said yes to you if he had wanted to.”  Dean remembered his brother, remember everything about the life they had led together.  But the pain of those memories was gone, it was like there was a disconnect between his mind and his feelings.  He liked this new way of being, he liked it a lot. 

“Not dead, dying.  And even if he had been dead, well that’s not much in the way of an obstacle.  You see, Zachariah was playing a trick on you when he ‘killed’ Sam.  He knew I would just bring him back again. He was trying to force you to say yes, which by the way good on you that you didn’t.  Love your new accessory, I can see that it's brought out the best in you.”  Lucifer winked at Dean.

“So Sam said yes?”  Dean asked.  That didn’t sound like Sam.  But maybe Sam had changed too.

“Here’s the proof,” Lucifer said, turning around in a slow circle.  “He kept saying his answer was no, but I told him about Jessica and his heart broke.  I felt bad telling him, but he had to know that a white picket fence just wasn’t in the cards for him.  And then I showed him you, what you had become. We were there when you killed Zachariah by the way that was beautiful.  And that's when Sam’s heart broke a little more.  And then I told him I would let him come out every now and again. That I would let him weigh in on decisions like what is to become of the little monkeys destroying my earth.  This kind of sharing is unusual to say the least, but I like Sam and I needed him to say yes.  And so he did.”

“He saw me?”  Dean asked.  “And that’s why he said yes?”

“Pretty much, yes.  He looked up to you in a major way, you know.”  Lucifer looked at him and then shrugged. “Look, why don’t I let Sam come out and you two can talk.  And after you and Sam talk, you and I will have a little convo about your future.  I don’t deal with demons generally but I think you, me, and Sam would be an unbeatable team.  Think about it, and while you do hereeeeeeeeee’s Sammy.”

“Dean!” And then Dean felt Sam’s long arms wrap around him as he drew him into a hug.  “You’re here, I can’t believe it.”

Dean pulled away feeling uncomfortably unmoved by the hug.  “So it is you.”

“Yeah it’s me, but I can see it’s not quite you.”  Sam stated, heading to one of the many rosebushes in the garden.  “Welcome to the afterlife by the way.”

It wasn’t quite Sam either.  The young puppy dog of a man who had such an enthusiasm about life had been replaced with someone older, colder, altered.  Dean liked it.  “So my baby brother has taken a walk on the wide side.”

“I wasn’t on board at first.”  Sam admitted.  “But then – Lucifer started showing me this whole new world, a new way of doing things.  I realized I could still make a difference, just not in the way I once thought I would.”  Sam sat on a small bench that someone had placed beside the rosebush and he motioned for Dean to join him.  “You’ve been out for a while, so there are a few things you need to know.  Michael’s gone, Lucifer won.  Out there – “Sam said, pointing a rose toward the gate, “It’s pure chaos.  Angels are in hiding, people are struggling to survive, and the demons are roaming wherever they damn well please.  Pure beautiful chaos.  And that’s where we come in.”

For the first time, something other than idle curiosity stirred in Dean.  A sense of excitement, a desire to jump with both feet into the fray.  He could feel the mark perk up, begin to itch. 

Sam was waiting for him to give a response.  “Sammy, to be honest, I just don’t give a damn about what the people are going through out there.  Let them live, let them die, I am not going to be the one who saves them.”

“Not save, rule.”  Sam leaned over to Dean and whispered “I’m strong now, stronger than even Lucifer knows.  This is my body and I’m taking it back. Dean, you have no idea how much I’ve learned in the little time you’ve been gone. I have abilities that I never dreamed of.  I can kill things Dean, just using my mind.  I can take this world and turn it into anything I want, anything we want.”

Dean felt his enthusiasm building, something inside of him was responding to the new Sam in a major way. “Killing things?  Are you sure little brother?  It’s too late for me.”  Dean felt his eyes flash black for the first time, he liked the power surge the black eyes brought.  “But not for you. Are really ready to go darkside?”

 “Don’t you see, I was never meant to marry Jessica and live the life of a corporate lawyer.   This was what I was meant for.”  Sam said, holding his hands out wide.  “This is ours, all of it.  You have the mark and all the power that goes with it.  I have the ability to kill, and the presence to lead.   We can do it.  We can rule the world.  What do you say do you feel like raising a little hell?”

Dean felt a sense of joy, not the old kind of joy that came from his heart but a new kind that sprung from his blackened soul.  “Let’s do this.”

 And so they did.

 

THE END

“

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
